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'BY 




0\4RS. SIBYL D. IVOLCOTT. 



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COPYRIGHT, 1889, 
BY 

Mrs. Sibyl D. Wolcott. 



Dedicatory. 



,p 



TO 

.M\ MAN\' TOO PAK'riAl. FRIENDS I DKDU ATE 

THIS EiriLE MISSIVE, HOriNO n MAY 

AFFORD TIIEM SOME I'LEASURE, 

OR A'l" LEAST AMUSEMENT, 

WITHOUT THE SHADOW 

OF ALLOY. 



Lexington, Ky., Dec. i88g. 



'^- CONTENTS -yj 



Rural Pen Pictures, 

Ask Notl ..... 

Written in a Friend's Album, 
Katydid, ..... 

To a Young Lady, .... 
To the Memory of a N-ewfoundland Dog, 
Description of My Cottage at Esculapia Springs, 
In an Album, ..... 
Upon Hearing the Drum, 

Upon Presenting a Thread-Case to a Bachelor, 
Acrostic, ..... 
Sweet Sympathy, .... 

To a Friend, .... 

Dread Silence, ..... 
To Martha, ..... 
To My Bouquet, .... 

My Lament, .... 

Response to Miss L. R., ... 

Dedicated to Mrs. M, S. Tenney, 
To a Withered Bouquet, 
Valentine, ..... 
To Mary R., . • . 

Impromptu, .... 

Query, . 

Impromptu, .... 

' Sing for Thee a Song? " 
The Elm by My Cottage, 



PACE. 

3 



3 
5 
5 
7 
7 
8 

'9 

20 



22 

23 

24 
25 
25 
26 

31 
32 
32 

33 

34 



CONTENTS— Continued. 

PAGE. 

Wearisome Winds, ...... 35 

Snow in the Forest, ...... 36 

To a Friend, ....... 37 

Bright Flowers, ....... 38 

Mignonnette, ....... 39 

Miss M. C. Requests Her Friend to Return Her Lover's Miniature 

to Him, ....... 40 

Sweet Month of June, . . . . . . 41 

The Lover's Broken Temperance Pledge, . . .42 

Dedicated to Miss Ada Steele, .... 43 

To Mrs. S. T. and Miss M. S., . . . . .44 

Written in an Album, ...... 45 

Homesick, ........ 47 

To Mrs. L. 0. Cooper's Autograph, .... 47 

To a Thistle Seed Floating in the Air, . . . .48 

To Miss Nannie W., ...... 49 

Early Recollections, ...... 50 

What Time I Am Afraid I Will Trust in Thee, . . 52 

A Streak of Cloud, ....... 53 

View from My Window, ..... 54 

To Mrs. Mountjoy, . . . . , -55 

Fairy Queen Wooing an Earth-born Lover, ... 56 

To a Young Friend, ...... 58 

Oh 1 No, They Did Not Mention Her, .... 59 

Excelsior, ........ 60 

They Say He'll Never Come Again, .... 62 

A Gift to the Dying, . . . . . -63 

On the Death of a Beloved Child, .... 64 

Desperate Lover, ....... 66 

' Love Lies Bleedmg," ...... 68 

An Extravagant Wish, ...... 69 

Written in Miss Annie Parry's Album, ... 70 

So Long Sick, . . . . . . .71 

Greeting to the Editor, ..... 72 



CONTENTS— Continued, 

PAGE. 

Growing Old, ....... 74 

To the Bachelors in " Centre Dell," .... 74 

The Sky, ........ 76 

Acrostic, ....... 77 

Written on a Card to Mrs. J. F., . . . . .78 

Note to a Friend, ...... 78 

' Sweet and Lowly," ...... 79 

A Response from the Mountains, .... 80 

For Mrs. Teal's Album, ...... 81 

To a Tree Covered with Icicles, .... 82 

Upon Presenting a Rose to a Friend at Parting, . _ . .84 

To a Friend, ....... 85 

To a Friend. — 1856, ...... 86 

Alas! For That Bleak Heart, ..... 87 

Ye Lands of Bliss, ....... 88 

Oh! Give Me Patience, ..... 89 

A Letter to the Editor of the " Christian Annual," . . 90 

There is Ever a Sorrow, . . . . . 91 

Esculapia Springs, Ky., ...... 92 

'Whom the Lord Loveth He Chasteneth," ... 95 

Upon Presenting a Beautiful Rose, . . . .96 

' Sic Transit Mundane," ..... 96 

To Miss Marion Power, of Maysville, Ky., . . .97 

The Chinese Sacred Lily, . ' . . , . 98 



G^BM- 0«N ¥yfi WMm. 



RURAL PEN PICTURES. 



'Tis Spring-time here among the hills, 

Where fern leaves spread their feathery palms, 
And silvery droppings from the springs, 

And early birds pour forth their charms. 

The frogs are singing in the ponds. 

The snipe has piped his herald note, 

The partridge beats his muffled drum, 
The bluebird tunes his mellow throat. 

The dogwood blossoms, fair to see, 

Are peeping through the forest green. 

And redbud, dear to childhood's eyes. 
Are blooming by the streams I ween. 

The sassafras, with velvet bud. 

Has spread her fragrant sinuate leaves. 

And rural scents, as rural sounds 
In harmony with all that breathe. 

Those boisterous winds that swept the way 

For the fair coming of spring, 
Breathe soft and balmy here to-day, 

And tiny insects on the wing. 



(1) 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 

Our footfalls press the yielding sod, 

Where blooms the bright cerulean flower 

Amid the mosses scarlet hoods, 

And wander back to childhood' s honr. 

The hare, e'en now in quiet bides, 

Yet turns her listening ear, and stops, 

Unchased by hound, securely hides 

Her white, and brown, within the copse. 

High in the air, the cawing crow. 

O'er new-plowed fields of hidden wealth, 

Lazily moving to and fro, 

Askant his eye, portending stealth. 

In yonder field the playful lambs. 
Half human in their bleating cry, 

Impatient of their feeding dams, 

Or round in quiet groups they lie. 

The gentle cow from barn-yard strayed 
Stands by the stream, in shade of trees. 

Still ruminates her morning meal. 

And lying down, breathes deep of ease. 

Her tender young, with calm round eye. 

With polished knee, and dew-sprent nose, 

Whose very breath, as new milk smells ; 
Replete with innocent repose. 

"The magic mist o'ertops the hills, 

Adown their slopes the varied green, 

And with the sudden summer shower, 

The stream goes tumbling down between. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 

By shaded pool, with Hue and hook 
The schoolboy sits ; and to /i/s eyes, 

Drawing- the minnow from the brook, 
It seems a fish of largest size. 

In paths that wind among the woods, 

Oft sweet fresh odors charm the sense, 

Of eglantine, or hawthorne bloom, 

Perchance, a flower of small pretense. 

Our path this morn led by the marsh 

Where sage and rtiint their roots submerge 

Violets, iris and dandelion, 

We sighted on the meadow's verge. 

'Neath yonder beech, in mellow loam, 

Where autumn nut, and foliage strewed. 

The monotropa rears her head : 

The enchanted fairy of the wood. 

Broad palmate leaves that spring clans. 

Where last year's leaves are forming mold, 

In village groups, the mandrake stands : 
Her petals snowy, and her stamens gold. 

On hill, and here and there, in glen, 
The shrub, the whortleberry bears ; 

And nodding pendent from its stem. 

The slipper, that the wood-nymph wears. 

The queen, perchance, of woodland bov/er. 
That spring leads forth in floral pride ; 

The cardinalis's scarlet flower, 

That blossoms at the water's side. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 

In woods apart, the mourning dove 

Breathes forth her tender plaintive moan, 

As lonely stranger pines at heart 

For the sweet sympathies of home. 

The whippoorwill, that all day long, 

Had sadly brooded o'er her care, 
x^t twilight's hour, in limpid song, 

Pours out her thrilling pathos there. 

Yet still impulsive in her song, 

As if all sympathy would meet — 
Yearning in her impassioned want, 

She pours her song out at our feet. 

(O, wondrous bird ! your notes repeat. 

And make more fair the moonlight hour ; 

All youthful memories, loves and hopes, 
Are brought within your magic power.) 

The catbird carols sweet discourse : 

All richness, gladness, joyousness ; 
So perfect is her song to verse, 

You almost may her words rehearse. 

As not with us, when pains intrude, 

Where pleasure's hold, we've grasped too strong. 
The catbird's crying interlude 

Is but the " selah " of her song. 

Now, since this pleasant vernal shower, 

A warm fresh odor from the earth : 
The green grass greener, and the flowers 

Seem smiling as in ver)- mirth. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 

The drops suffused with golden hght, 
Still clinging to the grass and leaves 

Are trembling with a brief delight ; 
Then fall, and hide, at every breeze. 

The robin's clear and brilliant song 

That scarce did wait the fallingr shower, 

And redbird's chanting interlude, 
Enhance the beauty of the hour. 

Arched o'er the gateway of the East, 

A radiant rainbow spans ; 
So glorious in its form of strength ! 

A wondrous seal of promise stands : 

How 7tear we feel to God above ; 

How glad our heart ; our cheek aglow. 
So moved by his All-Father love, ■ 

As we with God, look on his bow. 

Cloud, song and herd, and leaf and flower, 
In the great anthem, hold their part ; 

Through day and night is felt their power — 
Their voice, God's witness in the heart. 

Spring's charms are these that we behold — 
Charms both to eye and pleased ear. 

Where were ye all in winter's cold, 
Silent, and waitingr to be here ? 

O Spring! O Life! from what seemed death. 

O Joy ! from all that seemed so drear. 
Thy resurrection gives this garnered wealth — 

And makes Spring heaven of the year. 

ESCULAPIA, 1872. 



CREST (>y THE ^\ AVE. 



ASK NOT 



Oh ! ask not Ocean of the stream, 

That pours its soul in thine, 
What loves it bore upon its heart, 

Ere its full tide sought thine. 

What, though the gems of starry night 

Beamed down in love upon 
Its heart, as pure as the heavenly light, 

And left its light thereon. 

What, though the tender moon 

Were mirrored in radiance there. 

Should the clear soft light in its radiant depths 
Be less/?//'^ for thee to share? 

What, if the flower upon its brink 

Has given a roseate hue. 
And cast its diamonds there to sink, 

Is there beauty less for you ?J 

Or, what, if the cypress shade 

Has fallen in sadness there ; 
Is its softened light through the winding vale 

Less tender for thee to share ? 

Oh! then, if the faithful tide 

Has reflected each treasure so true. 

When she yields her pure soul as thy bride. 
Shall she prove less t^'ue unto you ? 



CBEST ON THE WAVE. 9 

Then Ocean, thy bosom swell 

As she mingles her tide in thy brine ; 

With the wonder! that waters so pure ^ 

That the stream can so wholly be thine t 



WRITTEN IN A FRIEND'S ALBUM. 

At the time he was having his family's portraits taken. 



How fondly do we cling to those around us ! 
To them who are dear to us by the ties of friendship ; 
To those who are still dearer to us by the bonds of love : 
Those who are " bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh." 
The heart trembles, lest they be torn from us. 
We seek to keep them ; we trace their features ; 
We add a glow to the cheek, and ruby to the lips. 
Time bears them on ; we strive to retain the spirit ; 
We covet the soul's breathings, transferred to the page — 
It's thoughts, it's feelings, its deep hidden mysteries. 

We catch but here and there an impulse, 
A throb, or two, of life. Alas ! how vain ! 
To words 'twere never given — 
The soul's alone dagiterreotyped in heaven. 
1846. 



lO CREST ON THE WAVE. 



KATYDID. 



The Katydids and Katydidn'ts 

Are holding forth their old harangue ; 

And never, since the world began, 

Were insects formed so much like man- 

Won't own they're wrong 
And say, "/ did itT 

Alas ! alas ! poor Katydid ! 

No doubt she's in the wrong. 
But never once within her song 

Has hinted that her spouse was wrong. 
Ah, no ! 'twas left for him to say, 

'Twas ''she that did il^ 



TO A YOUNG LADY. 

■Who made herself captive in her room for several days, fearing some possible 
contagion might have adhered to her clothing. 



What is this, now strikes my ear, 

Warbling in those strains so sweet ? 

Softly wild — so sweetly clear. 

Oh, it comes from the " Retreat," 

Where the fair one's spirit stays ; 

No — where her spirit takes the wing. 
Then she pours her gentle lays. 

When her thoughts in spirit sing. 



CREST ON THE WA VE. 1 1 

How ca?i she sing in her " Retreat," 

Shut out from joys that others share ? 

'Tis because she thinks it meet ; 

'Tis innocence that keeps her there. 

How different, indeed, would be 

If, shut from Hfe and common air, 

'Twas guih ! these penahies decree 
Her song, alas ! would be despair. 

Sing on, then, thy cheerful song ; 

Glad thy heart with music's voice. 
Pour thy mellow notes along ; 

Duty makes it pleasant choice. 

Nor think alone it blesses thee, 

To pour thy heart in gentle song ; 

It's soothing spirit rests on me, 

Begniling hours that erst ivere long. 



TO THE MEMORY OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG. 



Descendant of a noble race! 

What hand may not thy lineage trace? 

Each footstep marks a noble deed. 

And, justly, honor is thy meed. 

No shrinking fear of boistrous wave 

Deterred, when there was ought to save. 

No Alpine storm, nor tempest wild, 

Nor threatening avalanche high-piled. 



12 CBEST ON THE WAVE. 

But thy great heart could firmly brave 
The lost and perishing to save. 
On mercy's errand ever bent, 
Mildness and might in thee were blent. 
As well thou guard'st the babe fi-om harm 
As rescue from the 'whelming storm. 
But tkoii, whose memory I trace, 
Wert but an infant of thy race, 
And ne'er hadst plunged beneath the wave 
To rescue darlings from the grave ; 
Nor, midnight, ranged the mountain cliff. 
Nor, burrowed deep in wild snow drift ; 
Nor, faithful, watched the livelong day 
To guard the gentle child at play ; 
For scarce one moon thy little life ; 
Yet still thine eye, with being rife. 
Oft told within those kindlinp- fires 
Would'st honor well thy noble sires ! 
Then on thee be these honors thrown. 
For they ^lVQ justly all thy own. 
And now we gently pat thy head. 
And sorrow much that thou art dead. 
We praise thy form and ebon hair, 
And wonder if thy virtues share 
The same relentless hand of fate. 
That bids thee never, never wake. 
And now we lay thee 'neath the turf; 
But who can tell the half thy worth ? 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 1 5 

DESCRIPTION OF MY COTTAGE AT ESCULAPiA SPRINGS 

Dedicated to Miss Martha Jones, Jamesport, Mo., 1844. 

Not of rude logs, unhewn, this massive pile, 

But kewM, and smooth, is its more comely style. 

Stately and firm, upon its base of stone, 

Resembling Greece, or architect of Rome — 

Full sixteen feet the length, the breadth ten feet to four. 

With two small windows and an outside door. 

Plastered without, with tow chincked tight within 

To keep the winter's snows from driving in. 

And thus you see, by my description trite, 

I'm snugly corked, as in a bottle tight; 

But, lest you think I die for want of air. 

Around my door is space, full one inch square. 

And, though above, the naked beams protrude, 

The boards lay close, and all pronounced as good. 

Snug in one corner stands my stately bed, 

Resting in grandeur on its French postead ; 

Rising in downy pomp far higher 

Than I, at hour of bed, would e'er aspire. 

But, lest you think from lounging I'm prevented, 

I have a low one near my fire presented. 

Where oft, in rainy days, sickness or weary, 

I lie me down to pass the hours so dreary, 

Alas ! those days of stormy weather ! 

When all my troubles come together. 

As if, alone, my sympathies to try. 



14 CREST Oy THE WAVE. 

Down puffs the smoke, the tear starts to my eye ; 

But this, Hke many other griefs we share, 

All shortly dissipate in air. 

And now for all that constitutes my casket — 

Chairs, tables, boxes, trunk and basket — 

Each occupies its place, so duly ranged ; 

Nor further space, admitting choice or change. 

These could you see, you'd dub me with the clan 

Who ne'er, perchance, identify with man. 

And one thing more, which I must shortly mention. 

Deserving much and, better, my attention, 

Is the piano, filling quite the space 

Between my bed and wall, opposite the fire-place. 

To all these add another comfort more — 

I have a nice rag carpet on my floor ; 

And one more touch, to make the scene more bright, 

My house is washed without, and in, with white. 

To give you but a sketch was my intention. 

But it has lengthened out to this dimension ; 

Whether this course, propriety attends, 

I have my doubts — so must my friends ; 

But not to add more, too much, I've done. 

Be my apology, that thus my pen did run. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 1 5 



IN AN ALBUM. 

A very worthy stranger lady sent her Album for a memento from my pen. 
Upon turning its pages saw them filled with the warmest expressions of friend- 
ship. Believing an Album to be a Repository of Friendship, did not see how^ 
an entire stranger might appear in its sacred garb. 



At first my heart felt dark and void, 

Nor knew why memory's cold monument 

Should gleamless stand within thy fertile bowers. 

But as I thought, thy worth in light 

Broke in upon me ; 

Up sprung a flower perennial. 

And Friendship was its name. 



UPON HEARING THE DRUM 

Beat wearily late at night, collecting volunteers for Texas, '46. 



I can not rally this sad heart 

To meet contending foes ; 
It clings too fondly thus to part 

With peace for conflict's woes. 

It yearns to stay those generous souls 
Who, for their country's strife, 

Repress love's tide, by stern control, 
And yield, if need, their life. 

And yet, if 'tis our country's voice 
That sounds the dire alarm. 

They are the ones, those hearts of choice, 
To meet her foes in arms. 



1 6 CREST ON THE WAVE:. 

Then let me check these yearning fears, 
Nor damp one ardent breast ; 

Our country's cause demands our cheers 
Go, seek our country's rest ! 

Yes, nobly quell those tender thrills. 
Tumultuous in your heart, 

^ha father, brother, lover still, 
But act your country's part. 

Nor heed ye not inglorious ease ; 

Gird on your armor strong. 
With Liberty we must have Peace: 

Avenge your country's wrong ! 

But needless this, Kentucky sons, 
To urge to sword and shield ; 

You're lovers, all, when at your homes, 
But warriors in the field. 

Then haste to meet the Spanish foe, 
Our heart and country's meed; 

And let them learn in Mexico 
Kentucky's valorous deeds. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. IJ 



,UPON PRESENTING A THREAD-CASE TO A BACHELOR. 

Accept the gift that I bestow, 

As 'twas by kindness prompted ; 

A very useful thing, you know, 

And one so long you've wanted. 

And when you draw the thread thereout 

(Pray pardon my descanting), 
Ask what's the thread of life without 

Each other's kindness sharing. 

Then deem it all a friendly act 

That meets no other measure ; 
And tise it, as 'twas made for that. 

And not to hoard as treasure. 



ACROSTIC. 

Written in Mrs. E. Clark's Album. 



Endeared to me by every feature's trace, 
Long may thy form retain its noble grace ; 
Illumined thus, how else couldst thou appear? 
Zeal for the right — for every wrong a tear ; 
A heart, the seat of virtues smiling train. 
Center of love, and friendship's balmy reign. 
Let me but share that heart, in bliss to dwell 
Amidst its beauties, brightening in its spell, 
Reflecting on my soul, it's radiance there 
Kindling in me those virtues I would share. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 



SWEET SYMPATHY. 

(An Allegory ) 



A lakelet ruffled, by the wind. 
Sighed at her own heart's disquiet ; and the more 
As each wavelet on her bosom bore a shadow that 
Day nor night had lighted ; and thus her plaint 
In gentle murmurs rose: "True, lordly oak, as friendly 
Sentinel, and shadowing vine, and fortressed rock, 
Stand round my borders ; and o'er my brink the 
Flowret peeps, and the green grass dips her pendent blades 
In the clear waters — and deeply graven in my heart 
I wear their image. Yet these, though sweet, still 
Leave my heart benighted." At length a star, that 
Long had beamed in calmest light, rose o'er the 
Shadowing forest, and cast a glance upon the lake to 
Know why wailings sad should rise from waters pure ? 
But as he spoke each wavelet caught a ray unto its heart, 
And nestled back to rest ; and ere the plaint had ended 
A calm had o'er its bosom stole. The star had lighted 
it and blest. 

The star, still musing, said, "To lighten sorrow 
From another's heart is but to know it." 



CREST OX THE WAVE. 1 9 



TO A FRIEND. 

Who had been suffering through the night. 



How art thou since the weary night 

That brought the pain instead of rest? 

While others wrapped in deep repose ; 
Writhing a/o7ie thou wert unblest. 

Dost morning's ray bring quiet now, 

And soothing sleep spread calm o'er thee? 

Dost friendly hand now cool thy brow, 
Praying thy deeper slumbers be? 

Then dream ye on, let visions bright 

Steal o'er thy pillowed head once more, 

Thrilling thy soul with sweet delight, 
As erst was thine in days of yore. 

When youth and hope, with magic powers, 
Beamed on thy heart like summer hours, 

Then take their influence on thy soul. 

And thou shalt wake and find thee whole. 



(2) 



20 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



DREAD SILENCE 



Dread silence presses on the heart 

Of pulseless time. The striving ear 

Seeks aught to wake some hallowed 

Sound. No kindred voice, nor soft approach 

Of welcome friend, nor gentle tap 

Of well-known hand. And e'en the 

Faithful clock, that with its mellow 

Cadence kept the ear in tune, has ceased. 

All, all is silence ! No sound upon the 

Sense, which is as dead ! 

The eye a double office takes, 

Searching for that it can not hear ; 

And memory links her power. 

Which oft, in kindlier mood, brings friends. 

And smiles, and tones, and tender words ; 

But now brings naught but absence ! 

A presence palpable and cold ; 

Eye^ ear and thought, a triple test, 

Of solitude most drear. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 21 



TO MARTHA. 



"And sayst thou, not for me one line ?" 
Why, Martha ! all I have is thine ; 
And now, dear one, canst ask for more, 
When thou hast all this heart's full store ? 
To thee, and only such as thee, 
I give this heart's unbounded sea. 
Nor does it hold its friends " e7t masse,'' 
Nor thinks of one, no more, no less ; 
Quick to discern the alloy, and gold, 
And only does the pure enfold. 
But, ah ! the pure, and only true — 
A/as ! hoiv few, how very few ! 



TO MY BOUQUET. 

Sent by some young ladies who, in bright smiles, suddenly passed my door> 
but could tarry only a moment. 



Sweet emblems of their youth and love ! 

Ye came to lengthen out the sudden bliss 

That thrilled my joyous heart — 

So blent their presence with my ardent thought ; 

I scarce had felt that I was left alone 

When in ye came — so like an echo 

Of some gladsome strain ; 

Or like sweet evening's parting ray, 

Reflecting sunlight on my soul. 



2 2 CBEST ON THE WAVE. 



lY LAMENT. 



What reckless heart, so envious of my joy, 

That thus with ruthless hand my precious charge destroy? 

Ah ! was it not enough this solitude 

Should be deprived of one so kind, so good. 

Without uprooting e'en this little spire 

Which, hour by hour, could tender thought inspire ? 

What ardent care I should have reared each spear, 

And careful lop'd each withered one, and sere, 

'Till rip'ning 'neath my care to golden grain, 

Well suited, then, no longer to remain ; 

But, with a gladsome heart, the whole transfer 

T'adorn, rejoicing, my own paterre. 

Alas ! fond fancy, where's thy vase of flowers 

Which this should ornament in wintry hours, 

And lead sad thoughts from shadows melancholy 

To rove in dreams of blissful reverie ? 

I look in vain upon my mantelpiece. 

And thought, regretful thought, shall never cease ; 

For torn and withered lies this tuft of grass. 

Say, Robert, must my hopes thus pass ? 

Echo, thus pass. 

ESCULAPIA. 



CREST ON THE WAVE 



RESPONSE TO MISS L R. 



Didst thou dream of me, love, 

That my heart was pure and bright? 
'Twas thine own pure thought, love, 
Shed around me its hallowed light. 

Didst thou dream of my virtues, love, 

So beautiful to thine eye 
That even the spirit-dove 

Stooped down from the azure sky ? 

And amid the jewelled throng 

Of grace and beauty rare, 
Sought out my humble shrine 

As one, yet still more fair ? 

'Twas thine own pure heart, love, 
That knoweth not envy's unrest ; 

And brighter and purer shall grow, love, 
'Till it gains the bright land of the blest. 



24 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



DEDICATED TO MRS. M. S. TENNEY. 



A halo of light is around thee, Mary, 
Though they say thou art fading. 
This may be true, Mary, 

But to 7ne it seemeth 
That thy soul beameth 
Through its lightsome veiling. 

If it be true thou art fading, Mary, 

Thou art onward, the bright sun nearing. 
This we know is true, Mary, 

It is thy eagle flight 

To our feeble sight 
As stars, in their distance, are fading, 

But thou never canst leave us, Mary ; 

Too pure is thy light here revealing. 
In our hearts it is mirrored, Mary, 

Though grief may enshroud ; 

Thy light on the cloud 
Shall beam on our hearts for grief's healing. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 2$ 



TO A WITHERED BOUQUET. 



How shall we epitaph this Bouquet ? 

It seems most too precious to throw it away. 

By fair hands 'twas gathered ; 

With a white ribbon tethered. 

And breathed on with Love's breath — 

What a burden of wealth ! 

And sent you when sick — 

What a true lover's trick ! 

But its beauty has faded ; 

Gone the perfume that laded. 

All its comeliness reft — 

Naught but prickles are left. 



In silent admiration long have I beheld thee, 
And enshrined thy virtues in my heart — 
As a pure lake, the star. Yet would I not 
Breathe my love, though well thou knows't it ; 
For from thy pensive lips, 
Like weeping pearls, let'st fall such words, 
Of chastened tenderness, that bade me 
Hope not ! Thus my light went out. 
As fades the tint from evening clouds. 

o 

But ever on the altar of this heart 
Thine image pure I offer unto heaven. 

Valentine. 



26 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



TO MARY R. 



Dear Mary : 

Since you did not send your love 
To me below, nor me above, 
I write this line to let you know 
That I remain " in statu quo,'" 
Though can not tell how soon shall g®. 
Much in my room, oft in my bed, 
And still complaining of my head. 
Now why it is I'm thus afflicted 
Is sure a cause that's often sifted. 
That cause is o?ie, and can't be beaten, 
That surely "• something yoti have eaten.'' 
Alas ! that nature does require 
Such gross materials for her fire. 
Why could I not have lived on vapor, 
And lengthened out this little taper, 
With liberty unblamed to breathe 
- The common air to all bequeathed ? 
But, not to o'er my lot complain. 
My pen shall take another strain. 
And tell you of the change of thin^^f's 
That Time has brought upon his wings. 
Since when you left, in winter drear, 
All nature's changed from grave to cheer ; 
The trees arrayed, the meadows green 
With brilliant golden spots that gleam, 
Reminding us of days that were, 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 2/ 

When youth and health, as light as air, 

Traipsed o'er the fields as fairy scenes. 

And life itself seemed pleasant dreams ; 

But from the fields we'll turn away 

And peep into our garden gay, 

Where daffodils, in golden dress, 

First op'ed the spring with sweet address; 

The snowdrop, then, in pearly white, 

Turned up its little eye of light ; 

The hyacinthe's sweet latent wealth 

Is borne on her delicious breath ; 

The gentle bluebell's modest mien 

Ne'er dreams her modesty is seen ; 

But tulips flaunt in gold and red. 

Nor hangs the peony's crimson head 

That she has left the ball of snow 

Without a single blush to glow ; 

Yet meek and quiet, robed in white. 

She blooms, a pendent orb of light ; 

Nor discontent, nor envy knows 

That she the peony's contrast shows. 

'Tis often thus in nature's dealings, 

She scarcely seems to heed our feelings ; 

On some she showers her hoards of wealth, 

And gives them friends, and gives them health, 

Whilst others meet contending foes, 

And all their life a world of woes — 

But while I talk, this royal red 

Already on the turf is shed ; 

The glory of its richer bloom^ 



28 CREST ON THE WAVE. 

But brouofht it earlier to the tomb. 

The graceful snowball's starry gems, 

Though loosening, too, from tiny stems, 

Are borne on gentle breezes' wing, 

To deck the faithful evergreen. 

That, like the canopy of night. 

Bespangles o'er with starry light, 

Or scatters far and wide around. 

Her generous pearls on grass and mound. 

But whilst I thus, in half disguise. 

Am tending toward a moralize, 

I'll leave the fancy of my friend 

To follow where my moral tends ; 

And still present each plant and flower, 

And thus fill up a pleasant hour. 

Full well you know these garden walks. 

Where hearts grrow lieht in social talks. 

Where buttercups their gold leaves scatter, 

And blooddrops, bright as liquid, spatter. 

The lady, in her veil of green, 

As modesty itself, is seen. 

The larkspur, in her wild delight. 

Just bursting into tinted light; 

The J^eur-de-/is, in royal ray. 

Oppose the leopard lily gay; 

The varied pink and multi-rose. 

From which a tide of sweetness flows ; 

The painted lady's gorgeous dress. 

With rich luxuriant silken grace ; 

Her breeze-swept petals fall and rise 



CEEST ON THE WAVE. 29 

Like lano-1-iid wino;s of butterflies. 

And there's the bright forget-me-not, 

With its sweet confiding look, 

Reminding us of flowers that fled 

Since first it reared its Httle head, 

To bloom, with calm enduring ray, 

Till all these pageants pass away; 

But not to name each flower and sweet 

That now our cheerful footsteps greet, 

On grassy mound, or arching bower, 

Or viny pyramids that tower, 

Or graceful rose-vines snowy plumics, 

That nearer to our dwelling blooms, 

Whose odors so enrich the air 

That thousands might the fragrance share ; 

Or eglantine, so sweet and bright. 

Just peeping through the window light; 

We'll pass along these borders gay, 

And to the shady arbor stray. 

Where the rose and grapevine twine. 

And fragrant honeysuckles climb. 

Here, in this pleasant cooling shade, 

Oft be, my friend, in fancy staid. 

O ! 'tis a fairy little nook, 

Where, free from care, or with a book, 

We cast our raptured glance around, 

And fancy it is Eden ground. 

Where shrub, and vine, and smiling flowers 

Are nurtured all by rainbow showers; 

Or listen till the soul is stirred 



30 CREST ON THE WAVE. 

To tuneful voice of joyous bird ; 
Or wildered by some wild-bee hum 
Till reverie's thought half cease to run ; 
Or wakened by the balmy breeze, 
That's wafted from the fragrant trees, 
To view again, with fresh delight. 
The butterfly's soft wavy flight. 
So like the genius of the bowers, 
She waves her banners o'er the flowers. 

Now Dear M. : 

I doubt not, long before this time, 

You're drowsy grown, by din of rhyme. 

And promise you, before I close. 

To treat you to a little prose. 

But for its interest or excitement, 

Of subject matter or inditement, 

Alas! M. K. does not afford 

Not e'en the shadow of a gourd. 

For hopeful hearts to lean upon. 

For beaus, ah ! one and all are gone ; 

Your "sweetest" one has sought Missouri, 

The rest are joining Texas fury. 

So now, you see, the barren soil 

Affords no victor or his spoil, 

Nor is there hope, till next " Leap Year," 

That we shall have a ''volunteer^ 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 31 



IMPROMPTU, 

Upon learning that the French astronomer, Leverrier, had discovered a star 
before it had made its appearance. 



Leverriere ! Leverriere ! 
Thy name henceforth shall be a star ! 
The brightest of earth's constellations, 
The glory of her admirations ! 

Thy God-like soul looked forth in thought, 
And to thy mental vision brought 
A world ! which erst to thee was not. 
Unerring skill, in nature's laws. 
From vast effects traced out a cause, 
Weighed all the planets from their source, 
Accounting for each devious course. 

The astonished Maofi sought afar, 
When lo ! they found the unknown star, 
And glory crowned Leverrier ! 

Leverrier ! Leverrier ! 
Thy name henceforth shall be a star! 
The brightest of earth's constellations. 
The glory of her admirations ! 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 



QUERY, 



Ye sages blest! who have the happy art 
Of giving wing to sluggish dormant thought, 
Each in its proper channel trained to flow 
Just as the subject wills, now quick, now slow, 
Imagination's airy fields to soar, 
Now fold the wing for philosophic lore, 
And each, so poised, will nicely balance skill, 
Pray, can ye make tJie busy thoughts lie still ? 



IMPROMPTU, 

Upon reading a speech of Corwin's, in Congress. 



Hail ! noble Corwin ! now dost thou enwrap thee 
In the mantle of Washington ! now dost thou encircle 
Thy brow with the halo of Truth ! and stayest up 
Thy soul with the buckler of Justice ! Yea, in thee, 
God, even thy God, hath not left Himself without 
A witness. 

Now be thy name revered 

By every patriot heart. 
Till Truth and Justice have disarmed 

Ambition's miscreant dart. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 



SING FOR THEE A SONG? 



I fain would sing for thee a song- 

In poesy's sweet voice, 
And the heart its echo should prolong, 

For /ove would be its choice. 

A rosy wreath for thee I'd twine, 

And set it richly o'er and o'er, 
With gems, and pearls, from the ocean-mine 

Of the heart's exhaustless store. 

I'd gather the rays from Friendship's pearls, 

And blend their p^olden lieht, 
And span the heart, with its rainbow hues, 

'Till it trembled with delight. 

I'd treasure the gleam from Hope's bright eye, 
The light from her silvery wing, 

'Till your buoyant heart should ever rise, 
A brighter and happier thing. 



34 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



THE ELM BY MY COTTAGE. 



I love its tall, majestic height, 

Its branches wide and free, 
The old bent limb, and gnarled root, 

They all have charms for me. 

I love the murmurs of its leaves. 
When morn springs o'er the lea, 

So gladly welcomes it the breeze ! 
O ! it has charms for me. 

I love its solemn stillness, too. 
Ere clouds in tempest break, 

Its silence doth the soul subdue, 
Nor bid one murmur wake. 

I love its cool, refreshing shade. 

Its presence seems to be 
For pleasant contemplation made. 

And this has charms for me. 

In days of yore, the brooklet ran, 
Beneath this old shade tree ; 

As pure 'tis now, as it was then, 
And still has charms for me, 

'Twas here I spent my childhood's dawn, 

In mirthful joy, and glee. 
With airy bounds I traced the lawn. 
Then rested 'neath this tree. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 35 

Ah! who would give this quiet home 

For Fashion's tapestry ? 
Not pleasure's hall, nor princely dome, 

Have half such charms for me. 

'Twas here I learned my evening prayer, 

And still I bend the knee ; 
O! v/ith one faithful heart to share, 

What bliss these charms would be. 



WEARISOME WINDS 

Oh, wearisome winds! why do ye overarch 
Fair April's sunny hours, ye winds of March? 
In thy confusion, blustering the leaves about my ears, 
Blinding my sight, and chilling me with fears, 
Why will ye blight the hopes of waning health? 
With all your blust'ring promise, you can't restore its 
wealth. 

Ah ! this little glint of sunshine 

Half tempts me to forgive, 
As hope is in that smile of thine. 

And bids me live. 
EscuLAPiA, April. 



13) 



36 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



SNOW IN THE FOREST. 



Holy, solemn, majesty ! 
Heaven's emblem, purity. 
Mantling over hill and wood, 
Deep'ning in the solitude 
Not the wildering stormy breath 
Scatters now its p^ems of wealth ; 
But as soft as angels hover, 
F"alls this snowy mantle over 
Rock and glen and lorest tree, 
All enwrapped in purit)'. 
Bending tops and branches prone, 
All the holy presence own. 
In my heart deep melody 
Echoes to its purity. 

^Ifc Jlfc -Jlp. Al^, >!/ 

All the day, in whispers low, 
Comes this wierd, mysterious snow. 
Deep'ning, through the solemn night. 
Falling, falling, 'till the light. 
Stayed the treasures of the snow ; 
None may whence thy secret know — 
Now the breeze from skies cerulean. 
Sweeping showers of pearl and diamond 
Rifting richness on the snow. 
Now the sun lights all aglow, 
Gleaming through each icy prism, 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 37 

With a sudden beauty given, 
Emerald, ruby, sapphire, 
Golden tints, and glowing jasper, 
Every jewelled bough resplendent. 
Sparkling, trembling, every pendent, 
With a glory earth ne'er knows, 
"Fill she wears her robe of snows 
All aslant the frost-flecked air. 
Glory, glory, everywhere ! 

Thus the Father, in His love. 
Sheds us glimpses from above, 
Of that city walled with gems. 
Where the just wear diadems, 
'Till our feebler souls can bear 
A/l the gfeater gto7-y there. 



TO A FRIEND. 



x^s flows the streamlet to the stream, 

To seek its bosom sea. 
So thought, on steady, ardent wing, 

Bears onward thought to thee. 

As does the drooping flower at night, 

My heart grows sad, from thee. 
But as it joyous opes to light, 
So, mv heart welcomes thee. 



38 CREST OX THE M'AVE. 



BRIGHT FLOWERS. 

To Mrs. Nichols, Lexington, Kentucky 

Briofht rtowers ! Sweet flowers ! 

Ye are gifts from above, 
That are strewn in our pathway, 

To teach us to /oz>e. 

Bright flowers ! Sweet flowers! 

Though in sorrow we grope, 
Thy grace and thy beauty 

Still teach us to hope. 

Bright flowers ! Sweet flowers ! 

Ye " thoughts of the just," 
Ye eloquentl)' teach us 

Unwavering irjtsL 

Fair emblems ! Sweet flowers ! 

Of the bright "Sharon Ros^, 
And the " Lily," so lowly, 

That in the vale blows. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 39 



MIGNONNETTE. 

Dedicated to Mrs. S. Bassett, Lexington, Kentucky. 



What i.s it? (), where! this exquisite seeming! 
As if a breath, from Elysium, out-steaHno', 
Entrancing the sense, with its subtle perfume? 
Is it the odor of some Orient bloom, 
Whose dazzlino hue, whose glory, whose charm, 
Enwraps the pleased sense, in its mystical balm ? 
The ardent eye seeks for this radiant flower. 
Whose delicate incense is sweeping the bower. 
Not the glowing carnation, trailing her sweets 
With her spicy breath, so lovingly greets. 
In truth, not the rose, though queen of her train. 
So steals on the sense, like the sweetest refrain. 
Then where shall we trace this timid recluse. 
So shy, and so coy. her wealth to disclose? 

The eye rests on a tint of the palest green. 
With the slightest glint of golden gleam, 
Still wondering where all these virtues combine, 
When, lo ! we have found it at Modesty s shrine. 



40 CJREST on THE WAVE. 



MISS M C. REQUESTS HER FRIEND TO RETURN HER 
LOVERS MINIATURE TO HIM. 



Oh ! give it back to him again ! 

That once so fondly cherished, 
Those thrilling chords it wildly woke, 
With withered hopes, have perished. 

Oh ! give it back to him again ; 

Why cherish it in sadness ? 
Though deep within this heart enshrined, 

It wakes no more to gladness. 

Oh ! give it back to him again ; 

(The heart but breathes it faintly,) 
He broke the cup of bliss in twain. 

Then dash'd it. Oh ! how madly.* 

Yes, give it back " lor me," again ; 

This heart can not be trusted, 
Lest feeling triumjjh over pride, 

('The heart's last anchor wrested). 

Oh ! will it on his spirit fall, 
Like dirges, sadly pealing ; 

Or shadows, like a funeral pall, 

Which, time can know no healing ? 

'Intemperance. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 41 

Yet, give it back to him again, 

For whom a prayer is breathing, 
That still life's sorrows lightly fall. 

And Hope's calm ray be stealing. 



SWEET MONTH OF JUNE. 

Dedicated to Miss Laura Virginia Smith. Lexington, Ky. 



How sweet is the dawn, that with music awakes ! 
When the gray tint of morn into roseate breaks. 
When the soft, nestling zephyr lights down on the trees, 
And o^athers her odors to bear on the breeze. 



& 



When the dew rests unshaken on flowret and grass, 
Nor footfall has marr'd since the night angel passed, 
And breathed on each bud his ambrosial perfume. 
That opes to the morn in the sweet month of June. 

When the first golden ray gives each tint to the bloom. 
What a flutter of joy ! what a yield of perfume ! 
What a bright, joyous sparkle laughs out from the dew. 
As it yields the pale starlight, for morn's golden hue. 

The bird, and the bee, dart out from their rest. 
They break on our vision, like bands fVom the blest, 
And the sylph-butterfiy, sweet genius of flow(^rs. 
Waves her banner-wings light o'er the dew-gem'd bovvers. 



42 CREST ON THE WAVE. 

The bright l)ird lays her breast on the thin, sunny air. 

And floats far in ether, on her own music car; 

The cloudlet rests soft, on the bosom of noon. 

And bland are the breezes in the sweet month of June. 

O, sweet month of June ! what treasures are thine ! 

Your jjhials of odors adorning each vine, 

Your carmined-cheek roses are breathing perfume, 

O, queen month of roses! is the sweet month of June. 

My heart now unfolds, from its sorrow and care, 
As the rose-leaf unfolds to the soft evening air. 
And my spirit shines out, in its silvery ray, 
As the light-ripples Hash, in the sunbeam's play. 

And my life springs afresh, in its love-lit spell, 

As the rill springs to light, in its shadowy dell. 

And my heart ! O, my heart ! it is ever in tune. 

In the bright sunny hours of the sweet month of June. 



THE LOVERS BROKEN TEMPERANCE PLEDGE. 



Tune: "The Rose That All Are Praising." 

Idle plciioe that I have prized so high. 

The one you gave to me, 
And must its broken fragments lie. 

Unheeded all, by thee ? 
Those cherished hopes, so kindly given, 
Alas ! what fatal hand hath riven ; 

That thus they withering lie ? 
So fair, they bloomed to die ! 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 43 

Oh ! is there not one relic left, 

Of all that shone so bright ? 
Of hope, of love, of reason reft, 
By the foul tempter's blight ! 
Oh ! yield not thus thy generous soul. 
Still make the effort to control. 

Nor cease the virtuous strife, 
'Twill prove perchance thy life ! 

Ah ! yes, I see thee turn once more, 

With firm resolve "to try" 
The cup forsake, the pledge restore, 

Nor taste it lest you die. 
Those cherished hopes, that thus were slain, 
Are kindling now, to live again ; 

That purposed heart of thine, 
V\'^ill surely yet be mine! 



DEDICATED TO MISS ADA STEELE, 



O ! that glimpse of the sweet, wild rose ! 
Would quaff of its breath ; 
Would sip of its dew ; 
Would gather its wealth ; 
But 'tis gone from the view. 

To me you have been that sweet wild rose ; 
So brief did we meet; 
How I yearned for your stay ; 
That moment, so sweet ; 
Yet you flitted away. 



(4) 



44 CREST ON THE WAVE. 

O ! fragrance of the sweet wild rose ! 
So memory will bless 
When gone is the friend 
Of the gentle caress ; 
But friendships ne'er end 

We shall spring again like the sweet wild rose 
Where our flowers shall be gems, 
Our wreaths diadems, 
And our journeyings end 
In a lasting repose. 
EscuLAPiA, 1873. 



TO MRS. M, S. T. AND MISS M. S. 

As they wept over their languishing sister. 



I saw what seemed to be a flower, 

So brilliant was its hue. 
And the bright gems that sparkled o'er 

Seemed pearly drops of dew. 

But as I gazed I nearer drew. 

And 'twas a hectic flush 
That o'er the cheek her mantle threw 

Of roseate blush. 

Those drops of dew were sister's tears, 
Warm press'd from the anguished heart ; 

But Oh ! they spoke the silent fears 
That loving hearts must part. 



CBESl ON THE WAVE. 45 



WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM 

In a wreath of flowers, butterflies, honey bees, etc. 



Bright garland of flowers ! What gorgeous array ! 
Sure, Flora and her daughters have met for display. 
Their beauties and graces, in mystic combining, 
With odors and zephyrs their charms all entwining, 
With freshness and splendor, the senses regaling. 
Enriching with fragrance the breath we're inhaling. 

O ! come to the banquet, ye warm hearts of youth ! 
Here the bright rose of love, and the myrtle of truth. 
The primrose of evening, and the violet so blue ; 
O ! come and select for some fond heart and true ; 
Here the moss bud and snowdrop in innocent white, 
Each presenting their charms with varied delight. 
A bouquet so sweet, so enchantingly rare . 
O ! come and select for some delicate fair. 
Whose beauteous form and bright smiling face 
Shows nature's fair hand in every trace. 
Where health leaves her tint on the cheek and the lips, 
But whose soul and whose mind all these beauties eclipse ; 
A heart firm, yet yielding, and breathing of love, 
All pure and unmingled as it came from above. 

Then skillfully play on these delicate harp strings, 
Nor trust the brim-heart's full to tremulous falterings ; 
But select some dear flower, that breathes thy emotion. 
And give it a pledge of the heart's true devotion. 



46 CBESl ON THE WAVE. 

But caution, dear youth, while culHng a flower, 
There is often a thorn, though hidden its power ; 
And full often, too, on bright airy wing, 
Gaily sipping the sweets, some wearing a sting. 

But stay ! there's a flower, that now meets my eye, 
It calls forth a tear, the heart breathes a sigh ; 
Not the tear of regret, but the soul's gush of feeling ; 
'Tis a joy ! 'tis a hope ! 'tis a heaven revealing ! 
How strange these emotions of mingled delight, 
Where sympathy, sorrow and joy all unite ! 
O! flower of all flowers, thou flower of the cross,* 
E'en before which all others are "counted but loss," 
Thou bid'st us first seek, in language of love. 
The bliss that's undying, whose emblem, the dove. 
Like a bright star of heaven, so pure, so divine, 
Thou restest a beacon of Hope, on the vine, 
An emblem, so true, so touchingly rare. 
Thy charms e'en attracting the angelitos there. 
Like them, may we draw the sweet nectar of love. 
And lay up in store a rich treasure above. 
Like the butterfly gay from its chrysalis bed 
Emerge all triumphant with wings from the dead 
To receive a glad wreath of unfading flowers. 
All glory immortal, in heaven's bright bowers. 

•■■The passion llower. 



CBEST ON THE WAVE. 47 



HOMESICK. 



Like a dove that is wounded, 

I fly to thy bosom 
To nestle once more 

In the heart of my home. 

Alas! all unsheltered 

Too long I have roam-ed, 
A mark for the archers, 
I fly to my home. 

Is there room for the weary, 

Forsaken and lone ? 
I fly to thy arms then, 

O ! welcome me home. 

TO MRS. L. 0. COOPER S AUTOGRAPH. 



'Tis her name, that delicate trace ; 
So fraofile her form, but then her face ; 
So sweet, so gentle, so tair! 
The intellect brow, the beautiful hair. 
The polish of culture, the softness of grace 
On the beautiful mold, leave their elegant trace. 

But her heart and her soul, 
With these beauties compare, 
Though exquisite all, are not half so fair! 
What's polish of culture, or elegant trace, 
To patience, and meekness, and pure Christian grace ? 



48 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



TO A THISTLE SEED FLOATING IN THE AIR 



Aback! I know thee, who thou art, 
Although thou comest on the zephyr's wings, 
And dancest in the sunbeams, as if 
Thyself, wert sparkling rays of light. 
And now, with soft and silken grace, 
Thou touchest e'en my cheek. Aback ! 
I know thee, who thou art, and thy 
Low heritage — and how thou rootest 
Out thy better neighbors ; 
Nor stayest thence thine inHuence dire, 
But o'er the land thou spreadest 
Thy bane insidious, vaunting oft 
In royal mien, which Scotia, lain, 
In proudest honor wears, 
Avaunt, base hypocrite ; with 
All thy regal mien, and silken grace, 
Thou wouldst pierce the heart 
'Twould grasp thee friendly. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 49 



TO MISS NANNIE W. 



Dear Nannie, take my little flower 

And cherish it for me ; 
And let it be a rosy link 

Between myself and thee. 

And may its fragrant buds and flowers, 

Beneath thy fostering care. 
Beguile thy lonely summer hours 

Which I so fain would share. 

And if, perchance, it bear a thorn 
(What rose e'er bloomed without). 

Let it not check thy smiles or care, 
Nor wake distrustful doubt. 

For is it not the darkling cloud 
That gives the rainbow shower ? 

So takes it not, the thorn, dear Nan, 
To prove the genuine flower ? 



50 CREST OX THE WAVE. 



EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 



The merry martin's matin song 

Recalls my days of youth, 
When hopes were bright, and hearts were warm, 

And all appeared like truth. 

So bright, and sunny, were those days 

My soul in music's strain, 
Burst forth, as with the morning rays 

Sweet notes from Memnon's fane. 

My heart was aye, so full of song. 

And Hope was ever dancing nigh, 
I scarce did wait the tear-drop gone. 

Ere joy was kindling in my eye. 

x-^s joyous as some fairy thing, 

I fain did seek to fly. 
To join their song and airy wing 

And reach the clear blue sky, 

What spirit was't my soul thus stirred 

To rise at once from earth, 
Ere thought or deed or hasty word 

Should damp this flow of niirth ? 

The same that tipped with gold the flowers. 

And bade them seek the sun ; 
The same that filled with song the bowers. 

And graceful festoons hung. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 5 I 

'Twas nature's voice unstained by earth, 

That bade the impulse rise ; 
All conscious of her heavenly birth 
She yearned to meet the skies. 

Those sunny days are gone for aye 

Yet hope has not departed, 
She lingers near with tempered ray 

Nor leaves me broken hearted. 



But life was lengthened out apace, 
And o'er her gilded landscape threw, 

P'ull many a dark and shadowy trace, 
iLre she her magic light withdrew. 

Those happy days of life's young dawn, 

Ne'er dreamed an evil morrow. 
But night succeeds the brightest morn, 

And time hath learned this heart to sorrow. 



(5) 



52 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 



WHAT TIME I AM AFRAID I WILL TRUST IN THEE. 

Psalm LVI : 3. 



When no storm was near, 

And nothing to fear, 
I felt strong in my Father to trust; 

But the deep thunder bayed, 

And my heart grew afraid, 
And I trembled for lack of ni)- trust. 



And I cried, Father, spare 

From this dread lightning's glare 
And the tempest that seemeth so wild; » 

And He answered me near. 

What casteth out fear. 
Is thy perfect love, O ! child. | 

Then for shame I leant 

My forehead, and wept, 
On the bosom of His Fatherly love; 

Soon the sun shone out fair, 

I was safe in His care, 
And the clouds were all trone from above 



CHEST ON THE WAVE. 



A STREAK OF CLOUD. 



The seasons come, and the seasons go, 
As the tides at ebb. and the tides aflow, 

But they never bring 

To my heart its spring, 

For that passed long ago. 

The days, they come, and the nights, they go, 
Filled with sighing and sorrow and wo. 

And the shadows they bring. 

Like a pall they Hing 

O'er hopes, dead long ago. 

My trials come, and my trials go 
All the way this journey below, 

And the path I thought 

Hut strewed with flowers. 

Checkered and shadowed 

By saddest of hours 



!^^. CEEST ON THE WAVE. 



VIEW FROM MY WINDOW. 



O ! what beauty in the distance ! 

E'er was lovehness so fair? 
Landscape traced by silvery waters 

Casting back the sunbeams there. 

Distant hills and mountains gleaming 
With their sunlit emerald crowns, 

All Elysian lands beseeming 
While the heart its spirit owns. 

Gently breathe the swelling zephyrs 
O'er the waving meadows low, 

Fleecy clouds their shadows glancing 
Soft as dimples come, and go 

Now the distant breeze-swept forest 

Wakes its music to the air, 
And the tender, cooing dovelet 

Pours her plaintive echoes there. 

Bounding o'er the grassy hillock 
Tender herds, and lambkins play, 

Blending all their bleating chorus, 
Or by silvery brooklets stray. 

Fresh, the fragrance from the orchartls. 
Pouring richness on the sense, 

Violets, eglantine, and roses, 

Offering up there sweet incense. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 55 

Beauteous nature ! All harmonious ! 

Stirring deep the inmost soul 
Wakes the bosom-harp in chorus, 

Yieldingr music with the whole. 



TO MRS. MOUNTJOY. 



A murmiu' so It anion l', the leaves, 

As if of Autumn sighing; 
Sweet, gentle x-^utumn, that so oft 

Hangs over pensive beauty dying. 

Flush summer brought us fruits and joys, 

We quaffed of her elixirs. 
And felt for moments that e'en lite 

Could hold for us no other mixtures. 

But, Oh! The waking time will come. 

The frost will touch, and blight our (lowers, 

And chide us, that we e'er had thought. 
On earth to spend our Eden hours. 

Earth's pleasures so delusive are. 
We taste her chalice o'er and o'er, 

And find them fleeting as the air. 

And still the heart cries out. '•'•Ejicorcy 
Maysyh-le, Ky. 



s6 CREST ON THE M'A VE. 



FAIRY QUEEN WOOING AN EARTH-BORN LOVER 



Ah! There! Behold 
Yon rosy youth, recHned in sylvan bower, 
In happifying- shade, held soft in slumber's power. 
Down from this sunlit cloud I'll spread my silken wino-, 
And o'er his soul in dreams love's radiant fancies bring. 
(Yes, all my zephyrs glancing in the sun 
Shall do him honors, when their Queen has won) — 
I'll sott advance with such a gentle grace. 
He will half love me, ere he sees my face. 

I'll poise me here, 
Just by the tinkling of this spring 
That tails in mellow music on his ear. 
Holding his soul enrapt, intent to hear. 
So, will I woo him with dreams changeful moods — 
(Thoughts less etherial. fair purpose but eludes.) 
So. thou tair dreaming youth shalt knoiv 
All the sweet graces that my cares bestow\ 
Thus, when dark shadows hover o'er thy rest, 
And sit in awlul dread upon thy breast, 
'Tis / who turns those shadows into litrht 
And wreathe around thy heart soft haloes of delight. 
When turgid waters threaten to destroy, 
Nor hope, nor skill thy found'ring barque upbuoy, 
'Tis / who calms those waters into lakelets bright. 
And mak'st in shallow depths, thy found'ring barque move 
light 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 57 

When awful precipices yawn beneath 
Thy trembHng footfall, nor thy heart can breathe, 
'Tis / who bear'st thee on my gentle wing- 
To some green slope, or islet crowned with spring, 
Where roseate bloom, and fragrance fills the eale 
With sweetness soft, ne'er dreamed in Cashmere vale, 
Where music pours her very soul of love 
From winglets bright, and plaintive dove, 
'Fill all the dreaming senses of thy soul 
Entranced in bliss, are held in sweet control. 
And ^kzis, I woo thee, when thine eye dost turn 
To earth's lair objects, and thy heart dost burn 
To gather sweetness in its fond embrace. 
And gaze with rapture on each lovelit trace, 
'Till earth, and soul, and life were o-iven 
To gain at once thy fancied heaven. 
In thy abandon, then, 1 waken /ear 
That all of fancied heaven may not be here. 

And ^/iiis and t/i//s I woo thy love. 

Ah, say, must I retire in shadows soft. 
And breathe my sighs, as I have oft. 
To idle zephyrs in my airy realm. 
And glow in vain my starry diadem ? 
Or wilt thou rise on pinions light and free 
And all my fairy Oueendom share with me? 
Yes, say at once, sweet, rosy. Valentine, 
Wilt leave earth's loves, and be forever mine ? 



c;8 ORE^T ON THE WAYK. 



TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 



Dear John, I've eluded my toes 

(A host of dire maladies sure), 
Then quick, come and see me, who knows 

But your presence may effect quite a cure. 

Then come in, I say, while they're out, 
Por you'll find me in frolicsome crl(-e>, 

Whenever they're taking a scout. 
Though anvilling malice (or me 

I'm the subject exact, that they like. 
On hand, when all others are tied, 

They're sure of my coming to life. 

Though departing, they leave me half dead. 

So you see how malicious my foes 
(Though I speak of it softly to thee). 

Lest o'erhearing, they thicken my woes. 
To pay for this minute of glee. 

Then come, John, I'll put on a smile, 
Although I must do it by stealth. 

Lest they coming, steal on us the while. 
And douse me for having my health. 

Then if you've no fear of a ghost, 
Nor e'en its strong semblance to see 

(You well of such courage may boast). 
To the L. O.* come straight up to me. 

■■■Ladies' Observatory (name of room.) 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 59 



OH! NO, THEY DID NOT MENTION HER, 

To my darling little niece, Fannie C. Runyon. 



Can it be, thou little dewdrop, 
Thou hast left the mother rose, 

On whose bosom sparkling gem-like, 
Talisman of half earth's woes? 

Can it be, thou purest emblem. 
Heaven to earth has ever given. 

Thou hast left that glowing bosom ? 
Beaming brighter now in heaven. 

Fades she now, without thy pure light, 
Through whose beauties viewed her own, 

Deemin^,^ that her heart grew purer, 
As she pressed thee to her own ? 

Courts she now the shadow sadly, 
Which the hand of sorrow flung, 

When it took her pride of beauty? 
Tell me, dearest, purest one. 

If in heaven thy spirit floatest, 
Or on earth thou lingerest yet ; 

May not humble ones, with purest, 
In their breathings oft be met? 



(6) 



6o CREST ON THE WAVE. 



EXCELSIOR. 



A youth lay dreaming- on the sward 
'Neath Summer's shady bowers, 

And playful fancy led him on 
Through endless Summer hours. 

Perspective spread her golden wing. 

Unseen, were bogs, and storm and strife, 
And thought, but pleasure's perfumed breath 

Should fan his sunny life. 

And as he lay in blissful dream, 

A note fell soft upon his ear; 
Yet scarcely caught — like flitting gleam, 

Uprose the spirit voice to hear. 

Soon hied upon a gentle steep — 

The voice broke full upon his ear; 
And roused his soul as from a sleep — 
Excelsior ! Excelsior ! 

An ardent pulse within awoke ; 

Unheeded now the Summer lay, 
As o'er his soul the music broke ; 

Still upward, onward hold thy way. 

And as he gained each loftier height, 
His soul expansive, viewed before. 
Still opening scenes of new delight ; 
Excelsior ! Excelsior ! 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 6 1 

And now the watchword fill'd his soul — 
Nor threat'ning bogs, nor rugged steeps 

Could break the power of its control 
As on from height, to height, he leaps. 

His calm, expansive brow revealed 

A halo, wreathed of holy truth. 
And on his soul, the impressed sealed 

Th' insignia of Immortal Youth. 

Now sweeter still, that thrilling tone, 

As from celestial heights it came, 
By virtues stern, etherial grown, 

Triumphant rose a spirit flame. 

And as his brightning soul unfurled, 

On seraph wings to soar. 
Still echoed'''t)ack from world to world, 
Excelsior ! Excelsior ! 



62 CB.EST ON THE WAVE. 



THEY SAY HE'LL NEVER COME AGAIN. 



I've watched his footsteps, day by day, 
And night, 'till hope has failed. 
They say he'll never come again: 

That he is drowned ! 

Ah ! What is that ? 
His spirit fled from off this earth, 

His body in the cold wave 
Where I can never weep o'er his lone grave, 

Never — Never — Never — 
And ere the wailing echo dies, 
I'm list'ning still his footsteps. 
Till hope half lights the heart up. 

Yet, Never — Never — Never — 

Is the pall that ever 

On this heart must fall. 

Now ever in this heart 
I fold thy spirit, 
Ever — Ever — Ever — 
Thine image may not part, 
Never — Never — Never. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 63 



A GIFT TO THE DYING. 



It came like an echo, from the sister band ; 

Calling me back from the Jordan strand, 

O ! stay with us yet, till our task here is done. 

For a few more hours may thy life sands run, 

O wreathe with us still the bright flowers of life, 

Our hearts would enshield thee from sorrow and strife. 

Let us go to the fields, where the clear streamlets run. 

Let us joy once more in a bright May sun ; 

Let us breathe fresh life from the rainbow showers, 

And talk once again of our earlier hours. 

O! leave us not yet, thou "light of our eye," 

For we are one band, for the bright-gemmed sky, 

O ! leave us not yet, lest a chord in our song 

Be missed on our ear, and we feel thou art gone. 

Ye are a loving band, and I fain would stay, 

But the bright ones are waiting, I must wing me away. 



64 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED CHILD, 

Who died in the night while her mother, unconscious that her spirit had fled, was 
lying by her side and affectionately holding her hand. 



She had lingered by her mother, 
Tenderly she held her hand, 

When One came and clasped the other 
From the brig-ht and shinin^ band. 

Led her from this earth so shadowy, 
To the bright and roseate dawn, 

Where they welcomed her so gladly ; 
'Twas btU a step into the morn. 

Then they told her how they loved her, 

As they led her on, and on, 
To the mansions of the Father, 

Where no sorrow e'er could come. 

Told her then, youth's fair to-morrows, 
Oft were overswept by tears. 

Now her heart should know no sorrows, 
Nor should feel the blight of years. 

Then her hand they clasped the closer. 
As they on, and onward sped, 

Telling of the sweetest story. 

How the Saviour once was dead ; 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 65 

Now was waiting there in glory 

To receive the loved ones home, 
And present them to the Father 

As beloved of the Son. 

Then they heard the sweetest anthems 

Of the honors to Him due, 
And they felt exceeding glory, 

As they passed the portals through. 

Then they showed her, where her father's, 
Where her mother's home should be ; 

Where her sister's, where her brother's, 
Resting by the crystal sea. 

Then she joined the song of glory, 

Praised the Father that so soon. 
He had to His mansions brought her, 

Ere had passed her youthful bloom. 

Oft at evening, now, the music 

Floats adov/n the starry plain. 
Soothing all the heart's full anguish 

With their darling's blissful gain. 



66 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



DESPERATE LOVER. 

A young lover, desperately in earnest to understand and win the heart of his lady 
love, requested a portrait of a heart ; but how to portray that which never sat— is ever 
onward— and like the dissolving views, presents new phases at every pulsation, may 
not be so easy. Yet here are suggested a few refracted rays, which, perhaps, may be 
gathered to throw some LIGHT on the subject. 



Into what shall I dip my pencil rare, 

What guide in this magical art, 
Where cull the tints of a flower so fair 

To paint thence fair woman's heart? 

If I treasure the gleam from Hope's bright eye, 

The light from her silvery wing. 
Or snatch the tint from the sunset sk)- 

'Twould be but a fairy thing. 

If I gayly flit from flower to flower 
And follow the butterflies' wing. 
And hoard the tint of its sunny hour 
'Twould be but a joyous thing. 

If I take of the blush of the tinted rose 

And the oil of its fragrance win. 
And their graces spread till the canvas glows 
'Twould be but a beaiiteous thing, 

If I mingle the sigh of the mourning dove 

With the tears of the willow sad 
To sketch the waves of its trembling love 
'Twould be but in sorrowing clad. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 67 

If I take of the gems, their pearly Hght 

And dip in the morning dew, 
May paint the heart as the icicle bright, 

But as coid, perchance, if true. 

Ah ! how can I trace its thrilling life 

And the warmth of its pulses tell, 
Its hovering hopes, and its yearning strife, 

And the calm of its holy spell ? 

Is there naught in nature's hallowed store 
Her lights, and her shadows will own? 

Ah ! may it not be in music's power 
To paint her varied tone ? 

From the softest touch of the evening's breath 

That stirs the lip of the rose. 
To the deepest tones of the heart's rich wealth 

Her magical triumph shows. 

Thus Hope, anci the flowers, and gems, and dew. 

The palm to music had awarded. 
For her powers to touch each chord they knew, 

And thus had the Portrait ended. 

But swifter than thought, ere fancy could wist. 
Were gathered each ray with a magical twist. 
By a swift little messenger winged in his might 
From the gods with a lens, in lieu of his dart. 
And canvassed the spell, a bright ray of light 
On the disc of man's shadowed heart. 

(7) 



68 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



LOVE LIES BLEEDING. 



Oh ! strangely wild is this lone heart 
To weave a tie that must be broken, 

For Oh ! how surely we must part, 
And this dee/> love is but the token. 

Such golden links are made to sever 
That clasp this heart with wild delight ; 

The light of love is darkness ever 
That wraps my soul in pall of night. 

Oh ! sweet the light on other hearts 
That dawns on mine no more below ; 

Oh! sweet the bliss that love imparts, 
But mine on earth no more shall know. 

No hope e'er lights the anguished thrill. 
And "love lies bleeding" ever; 

The light that other hearts may fill. 
It comes to mine, Oh! never, never. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 69 



AN EXTRAVAGANT WISH. 



I wish I had a pond of ink, 

That never would grow thick or dry, 
And black, and polished letters make 

Just every time I'd try. 

And now another wish I'll make, 

Since I am in the spell, 
I'd have ivhite paper piled as high 

As I could reach full well. 

And of its depth, as height you'd know, 

'Twould be six feet or more. 
As I, in solid walls would stow 
Its reams upon the floor, 

And since to wish, is found so easy, 
I'll make this one more draught on. 

For I shall need, to keep me busy, 
A gold pen, tipped with diamond. 



yo CREST ON THE WAVE. 



WRITTEN IN MISS ANNIE PARRYS ALBUM. 



Annie, dearest, shall I bring 
Praises from the rosy Spring, 
Fragrance from the lily white, 
Purity from dewdrops bright ; 
Freshness from the breathing morn, 
Of the dewy starlight born. 
Glowing tints from closing eve. 
Gilding still the scenes they leave, 
Bring these treasures, and still more, 
From all nature's beauteous store, 
Lay them prostrate at thy feet 
Of thyself fair emblems meet ? 

Still there is an inner light 
Purer than the diamond bright. 
Richer than the rainbow hue. 
Heaven's gift bequeathed to you. 
'Tis the soul that beams within, 
Never, never to grow dim. 
Spark of the Divinity ! 
Lasting as Eternity ! 
Nature here, has no compare, 
All the earth no offering there. 
Not e'en angels in the skies 
E'er dared estimate the prize, 
And with wonder saw it won 
Bought by the Eternal Son ! 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 

O ! with humble, earnest prayer, 

Cherish it with all thy care. 

To thy last departing hour 

By the Spirit and the Power, 

By the grace of Christ that's given 

To ensure your home in heaven. 



SO LONG SICK. 



So long sick in bed ! Yes, I had 

x^lmost forgot there was a sky. 
Or air, or earth — 

Or aught that spoke of joy, 
Or breathed of life, or mirth. 

They seem'd to me as dreams that zvere, 
Not things of real life, 

That dimly Hoat in memory, 
Of neither calm nor strife — 

It seems a strange monotony. 
And not like any time, 

We scarce can tell from holy day 
The week, by common sign ; 

Thus Hows my life along. 
Or rather, floats in mist, 

Not like a story or a song. 
But how, I do not wist 

(But O ! that golden hinge ! the ''Afterwards,'' 
Did it not yield the "peaceable fruits? ") 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 



GREETING TO THE EDITOR. 

Greeting to the Editor of the first ne\Afspaper printed in Lewis County, Kentucky, 

1871 or 1872. 



We greet you with a willing hand, 

We are glad to know you take your stand 

On Lewis County's shore. 
We trust beneath your Fos/er-mg care 
All int'rests shall have a share 

And prosper more and more. 

Within the bosom of our hills 

Of running springs, and sparkling rills 

Are hidden mines of ore ; 
You've but to broach our enterprise, 
Which, like our mines, but hidden lies, 

To pour our coffers o'er. 

Here science, under every tree, 
Reclines, and waits, to offer thee 

Her choicest gems of lore. 
Her rays shall permeate the soil 
Anci well repay the farmer's toil 

With more than bounteous store. 

The arts shall flourish in your light. 
And trade and commerce shall unite 

To rouse our dormant shores, 
Strong interests, binding brotherhood, 
Contending for the right and good, 

Shall bless us evermore. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 73 

Our railroad, guarantee of wealth, 

That spans our east, and western breadth 

Shall be our country's pride, 
Shall link us with our sister mates 
And make us equal in the State 

With strength and power allied. 

But he who'd vote the blessing down 
Will surely bear the stigma down 

To his posterity ; 
And sadly prove the proverb true 
He that withholdeth what is due, 

Tendeth to poverty." 

Your politics, if understood. 

Are aiming at your country's good, 

(If incorrupt, and pure); 
But if they're held for party strife, 
Not principles, nor virtues rife, 

They can not long endure. 

Now here's again our cordial hand ! 
Partake the blessings of the land, 

With hearty will and cheer; 
Long may you live with us to bless. 
And meet with many a kind caress. 

The " Vancebiirg Pioneer T 



74 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



GROWING OLD. 



I can not think that I am old, 

That time has crept on me, 
Though fragrant still the flowers of youth, 

The frost has fall'n on me. 
Yes, fresh, and fragrant, are they still, 

I bear them on my heart ; 
Nor may the scenes of life e'er chill, 

Though many years depart ; 
Those flowers of youth, bright hope and love 

Still light my pathway here, 
Their golden light, and fragrant bloom. 

Shall all my heart's way cheer. 
Nor shall I ever feel old age 

While youth and nature smile 
With ever-standing open page 

My passing hours beguile. 



TO THE BACHELORS IN -CENTRE DELL. 



i 



These flowers of blue, 
Your favorite hue, 
As false have proved 
As some we've loved. 
Their fate to tell. 
But plucked and fell. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 75 

We eager sought 
With pleasing thought 
The flowers among 
And vines that ching 
To find but one, 
Just to adorn 
A bouquet sweet, 
Thus you to greet ; 
As 'tis but fair 
That you should share 
Our toil and fun 
In shade and sun. 
But why repine 
For flower or vine? 
Since flowers there are, 
As bright and fair, 
And speak as true 
As do the blue. 
Accept then, these, 
Your friends to please, 
And while they bloom 
In cottage room, 
With fostering care, 
Our smiles you share, 

"Ladies' Bower." 

EscuLAPiA Springs. 



(8) 



76 CUEST ON THE WAVE. 



THE SKY. 



The sky, the sky, the bright blue sky ! 

And its fleecy clouds of snow, 
With its zephyrs softly flitting by, 

As the light-winged angels go. 

The sky, the sky, with its broad expanse. 

Like a loving heart looks down 
On the bright green earth, with its hills and dales. 

Where her fruits and flowers are strown. 

The sky, the sky, the bright blue sky. 

Is mirrored in the earth below, 
As a lover's heart, the imao^e wears 

Of the look that love bestows. 

The sky, the sky, like a mother kind, 

Ne'er wears an angry frown, 
But the cloud that rests upon her brow 

Is to send some blessing down. 

The sky, the sky, the sweet blue sky — 

Looks lovingly down on earth. 
And the waters calm the feature's wear 

Of the clouds that gave them birth. 

The sky, the sky, bright blue sky. 

Is ever my heart's delight — 
Whether dressed in her light and fleecy clouds 

Or bright with her stars by night. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. yy 

The sky, the sky, the lovino- sky, 

Was ever my childhood's care. 
And I've dipped my foot in the Hmped stream 

To walk in her fields of air. 



ACROSTIC. 



Some think that earth has nothing bright, 
And all must wear a face of gloom, 
Revealing naught but has a blight, 
And blighting all that else had bloomed, 
Hapless indeed! i\live entombed! 

Amid her warmth, and lio-ht and g-ladness, 
No heart to feel, icebound in coldness, 
Nor face to smile, that soul is rayless. 

But ^/lere are hearts, so brio^ht and warm. 

Unbound by trost, or blight or sadness. 

Rejoicing earth's so beauteous born, 

Glad'ning their spirits, with her brightness, 

E'en as the laughing stream each ray and flower 

Sends back their tinted light with magic power, 

So they, with smiles and joy, light up the present hour. 

S-uch hearts as these, the world from chaos saves, 
D-arkness they light, although the tempest raves, 
G-leaming a beacon on the bosom's waves. 



78 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



WRITTEN ON A CARD TO MRS. J. F. 



Peace be to thee, my friend ! 

And I could wish for thee /on£- Hfe, 
Should happiness attend ; 

But how could I, should sorrow's dart, 
Pierce often through thine anguished heart, 
How cozdd I wish /on£- to detain, 
Thy ardent soul 

In earthly chain. 
When freedom's wing 

Can free from pain 
And reach thy goal. 



NOTE TO A FRIEND. 



The morn is fair, the dew is fleet. 
Inviting now to roving feet. 
And friends there are, who thee would greet 
With fondest love, in converse sweet. 

Though humblest /, this sweet would share 
Though age has dashed my brow with care 
You'll find my heart as fresh and fair 
As if a flower had just bloomed there. 

Then spend with me the morning hour, 
'Twill leave a charm within my bower. 
That oft will prove in wintry hour 
A halo, to the clouds that lower. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 79 



SWEET AND LOWLY." 



Sweet and lowly be ni\' flowers 

As the purple violet's cup. 
Which the sott and vernal showers 

Filleth with their crystals up. 

Sweet and lowly be my flowers 

As the myrtle vine that runneth 

'Neath the fraorant carmined roses. 

Where the breath ol sweet Spring couicth. 

Sweet and lowly be my flowers 

As the tin)' snow-drop white, 
Resting- on the grass)- billow, 

As a gentle ray of light. 

Yes, be mine as sweet and lowl\ 

As the clustering pearl) bells 
or the lily of the valley. 

Where the oil of fragrance dwells. 

Now to Him, the "Rose of Sharon," 
Would I bring my offering ])ure; 

It iiis grace but deign to smile on, 
Shall I leei reward is sure. 



8o CREST ON THE WA VE. 



A RESPONSE FROM THE MOUNTAINS; 

Or, the Music of the Winds in the Esculapian Hills 

I am wedded to the mountains 

And the grand old forest trees, 
The sparkling rills and fountains 

And the healthlul mountain breeze. 
You. from the city call me 

Your pleasures there to share, 
Your concerts and your worshipings ; 

But God IS everywhere. 

His grand old music tones 

That swept o'er Eden's bowers. 
Come sounding through these mountain-tops, 

And sweep these chords of oiu's ; 
Then die away in beauty. 

So soft, so sweet, so free, 
To rise again in majesty, 

Like billows of the sea. 

The solo in the distance. 

In soft Eolian strain, 
Comes swelling up these valleys 

To join the loud reh'ain. 
They meet as in a frenzy 

Of song, and joy, and glee ; 
Then sounds the full orchestra 

In one grand jubilee! 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 

So wake otu'- souls to music, 

With anthems from the sky 
(The winds are but His ministry), 

We teel his presence nigh ; 
And though it be a solitude. 

Yet sacred seems the place ; 
We silent walk through glen and wood, 

And almost meet Him face to Jacc. 



FOR MRS. TEAL'S ALBUM. 



I was a stranger, and ye took me in," 

Were the blest words the Savior spoke ; 

And from the heart, though stained with sin, 
He to himself the favor took. 

Thrice blessed they who thus have done, 
For they are of his Father blest ; 

Into his kingdom they shall come, 
Prepared for everlasting rest. 

And thou, amid that shining band, 

Shalt then this badge of honor wear ; 

Thou tookest the stranger by the hand, 
And bade her oft thy bounty share. 

Then through thy heart, as fragrance sweet, 
And on thy ear as music falls. 

Thy gentle kindness ever greet 
As oft as memory recalls. 



CREST Oy THE WAVE. 



TO A TREE COVERED WITH ICICLES, 

Seen before and after sunrise, and again in the after part of the day. 



Hail ! beauteous, glorious tree ! 

How like a queen in thy calm dignity ! 

My heart is fain to kneel to thee, 

As I gaze on thy peerless majesty. 

And this was wrought all in one holy night, 

This robe ot honor, and these jewels bright. 

Ne'er h'om thy earliest bud to this thine age 

Hadst naught like this thy crystal foliage ; 

For verdure bricrht, nor blossom e'er so (air. 

Has naugiit with thee in beauty to compare. 

Thou wert like an angel clothed in white, 

Just merged resplendent from the world of light. 

Or like a crystal, shot h"om some bright stai , 

Thou wert surely robed in 'l)-sian lands alar. 

When the lair o-oddess, decked wilh life the 
bowers, 
And placed the rose, the queen among th(^ Howcm-s, 
She from her brow withheld one charming grace; 
Nor did, till earnest sought, that beauty trace. 
When in her flow'ry halls begemmed with dew, 
Around the blushing maid her mossy veil she threw. 
Not so with thee, thysel'^ a goddess fair. 
Nor charm, nor grace 's \M\\\\\\i^\(\, perfection' s sclf'x:. there ! 



! 



CRE^ST ON THh WAVE. 

But this 's thy bridal morn — 
Was it tor pride or joy that thus thy heart did dauce 
When hrst on thee thy lord his eye did (glance ? 
Thou wert like a ruby crystaled into bloom, 
So radiant were the blushes thy beauty did illume. 
Thy sparkling' joy betrayed thy heart's emotion, 
.\ll queenly as thou wert in thy devotion. 
Or thoughtest thou in thy heart's lightness 
Thy lord's keen vision to o'erdazzle in brightness ? 
But now on thee full fixed his ardent eye above, 
Until thy very soul doth melt with love. 
I, too, could p-aze on thee until the last, 
Thy virgin robe and radiance cast. 
But I m'jist turn away. 
Yet in my fancy thou art staid. 
As some rich gem in golden case deep laid. 

And now, erelong, and I ?mtsf look apfain. 



Oh! thou, in peerless beauty left, 
Who could thee thus of all thy glory reft? 
Where is th) glorious diadem 
So richly set with many a glittering gem, 
Thy robe resplendent as thy spirit's beam; 
Each ample fold as 't were one diamond sheen. 
Where pendent jewels and th\' snowy wreath, 
Which munificent did thee bequeath? 

And did thy faithless lord pass on. 
Shedding alike his kindling- glance on every beauteous 
form, 

9 



84 CREST ON THE ]VA VE. 

Leaving thee thus the beautiful, the true, 

To waste away in pearly drops of dew ? 

And hast thou thus in thy despair 

Thrown off thy jewels, laid thy heart's strino- bare, 

This, thy resoh-e, tear after teardrop shed, 

'Till all, alas! thy beauty 's fled? 

Then now no more in thy Eolian halls, 
Shall music's voice be heard ; 
Nor zephyrs gaily dance ; 
Nor voice of gladsome bird ; 
The wind in eloomy nioht 
May breathe in sorrow's tone, 
Or hap, some lonely dove 
Sit there and moan. 



UPON PRESENTING A ROSE TO A FRIEND AT PARTING. 



Ah ! take this rose still bathed in dewy tears ; 
Ob.! yields it thus soft sympathy tor coming lears? 
Yet take it. though it be the last, 
And o'er the future many a shadow cast. 

Yet lives not fragrance when its beauty sleeps, 
As memory o'er the loved her faithful vigil keeps ; 
So let thy thought, when groups before it blend. 
Retain within thy mind thy niowitain friend. 



CIIE^T UN lUL WAVE. 85 



•TO A FRIEND, 

Who was a great admirer of the late and lovely Miss E J. S e. 



I have listened for thy dirge-note of wailing — 
Yet that wailing which is softened by sad music ; 
And thy sorrow — yet that sorrow which hath sweetness ; 
And thy tear — yet such as night weeps over closed 

fiowers ; 
And thy sigh — as the breeze bearing fragrance ; 
And thy desolation — whose wastes hope lights. 
Is thy heart paral)zed, that night's pall has closed 
Over that which is so lo\ely? Rise! Up! L.et ns stretch 
Forth that which is withered. Haste ! Quick, upon the 
Footsteps of her who blissful past the Portals; 
If so be, we msfy enter there before we lay down 
Youth's flowers, and bear the l)]ight and burden 
Of our years. All glorious now is she whom we 
Loved as lovely ! Yea, saw ye not her robe re- 
splendent 
As she neared the Holy City, adorned as a bride, 
Even spouse of the beloved ? Ah ! what admiration 

pulsates 
In that one all harmonious heart, to Him who 
Shall be "glorified in his saints and admired" 
By all who here have in His name believed! 



86 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



TO A FRIEND.— 1856. 



Henry, t is often said your early lore 

Should ne'er been wasted in a store, 

Nor even tending- fields of corn, 

Nor making beautiful the lawn; 

init had your talents had their weight, 

" Would oovern men, and onide the state," 

True, as you say, 't were noble toil 
To turn the furrows ot the soil. 
And breathe the Iresh'nino- air ot heaven, 
So freely to the toiler given ; 
And garner trom the treasured earth, 
The fruitful teemings of her birth. 
But nobler still the task consigned 
To him who ouides and troverns mind ! 

Then why has fate her favored son, 
Withheld from these bright glories won ? 
Withheld, perchance, as treasured store. 
Yet gathering still, and adding more ; 
Just as the wave's receding length 
Returns, and with it gathered strength. 

So thou, perchance, as o'er and o'er 
Thou conn'st the page of human lore. 
Enriching still thy treasured thought, 
Upon the drama to be brought 
In times as perilous, as when 
The lion prowHng from his den, 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 87 

In thy great namesake, met the shock, 
As raging ocean meets the rock, 
Sending its backward foam again 
To mingle with the ocean main. 

So thou, as o'er thy country's sky 
Dost sweep the horizon with thine eye, 
Shak quick discern the tempest blast, 
Threat'ning the gallant ship's o'ercast ; 
Shalt steady steer from rock and strand. 
And proudly bear her safe to land ! 
Then, Henry, keep thine upward eye, 
And clear these moorino^s where you lie; 
Leave the sweet culture ot the sod. 
And serve thy country and thy God ! 



ALAS' FOR THAT BLEAK HEART 



Alas! for that bleak heart where love's not known. 

Around whose sterile fibers no oTaceful foliage tiirown: 

So dead to lite, so little good to know ; 

No heart that can receive, nor pleasure e'er bestow ; 

No heart to smile with nature's landscape fair; 

No heart to thrill, when other hearts to share; 

No eye to weep when sad afflictions flow ; 

No heart to yearn for others' suffering woe; 

No heart grow bland for innocent's sweet smile, 

Nor song, nor smile, nor joy, that rigid heart beguile. 



88 CREST Oi\ THE WA VE. 



YE LANDS OF BLISS. 



Ye lands of bliss, that bloom so fair 

Where angel bands surrouiul the throne 
To wait some message still to bear 

To weary mortals tar irom home ; 
Say, can ye waft some sweet delight 

To bear us nearer to his arms, 
And wing our faith to higher flight? 
Alas, we crrovel here below, 
Our pinions trailing in the dust. 

The blinding mists are settling low, 
And trembling- is our ieeble trust. 

Dost ask lor ;/io7^e than Love has done 
To win thy heart to higher place ? 

The Father's love hath given the Son : 
Believe that love, and trust that grace. 

.Such wondrous grace thy faith requires 
No faltering footsteps hnd that path; 

'T is full assurance that inspires! 
'T is as thy faith, that each one hath. 

Then lay aside each weight and care, 
Let duty be thy enterprise ; 

Then faith and love shall lead to where 
This blissful land of glory lies. 



CREST ON THE WA VE. 89 



OH' GIVE ME PATIENCE. 



Oh ! give me patience to the end, 

It sure can not be far — 
Akhough the way is rough and steep, 
And chilly shadows round me creep, 

There 's now and then a star. 

A helping hand seems beckoning me 

To walk with firmer tread ; 
Though it may seem a doubttul way. 
Still guided by this gentle swa\', 
There 's nought for me to dread. 

As, step by step, the loftiest height 

Firm purpose may attain ; 
So Faith with ever onward step, 
And Hope within the bosom kept, 
Shall full fruition gain. 

What will tJic glad fruition be f 

O joy, all thought above ! 
To lay my head upon His breast, 
To feel my soul has perfect rest 
Within my Father's love. 



90 CREST ON THE WA VE. 



A LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF THE 'CHRISTIAN ANNUAL. 



James Challen, — Please send tlic "Clnistian Animal," for 

I miss its ray of sunshine, 

That made my home more bright; 
I miss its oolden flowers, 

Whose odors turned to Heht. 



'fc>" 



I miss its Hly fragrance 

Of purity and love ; 
Its mystic myrtle. Truth, 

Reflected from above. 

I miss its rose of beauty. 

Its trellises of grace ; 
Its gems that strew the pathway 

Of every page's trace. 

I miss its tender cadence. 

That o'er its waters floats. 
Waking the tear of sympath) 

In plaintive, dove-like notes. 

Unto it as a gentle stream 

In pain or sorrow's wave, 
Would plunge beneath its hoj)e-lit gleam, 

And there my spirit lave. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 9 1 

Then send the "Christian Annual" 

To soothe my spirit's tide, 
And store my heart with jewels 

More precious than a bride's. 

Indeed, Bro. Challen, your "Annual" wins the heart, like a beautiful land- 
scape, witli its pleasant lulls, ils gentle slopes, extended lawns, lei tiliziiig streams, 
rising here and there a cliff, towering in majesty, and crowned with evergreens, 
Long may you live to bless mankind, by awakening the mind and heart to the 
evei-beautiful, ever-living, ever-truthful ! Yours, tndy. 



THERE IS EVER A SORROW 

Dedicated to Miss Mary B. Wickliffe. 



There is ever a sorrow hangs over my heart, 
There is ever a cloud in my sky ; 

There is ever a tear that is ready to start 
From this longing, wistful eye. 

But there is ever a sun to light the cloud. 

And ever a hope in my sorrow, 
And ever a hand that is ready to wipe 

The tear that may fall on the morrow. 

So these lights and these shadows that checker 
my path 

Are weaving a robe for the sky ; 
And I, by the ply and garnish of faith, 

Shall be ready to wear by and by. 



92 CREHI ON THE WAVE. 



ESCULAPIA SPRINGS, KY. 

Dedicated to Mrs. Wm. F. Jones. 



Would you breathe the cool, fresh air 

On a sultry Summer day. 
Feast on choicest dainties rare ? 
Visit Esculapia. 

Would you from the crowded city 

Leave your cares and flee away, 
Eschew sickness and mosquito ? 
Visit Esculapia, 

Would you in the warm bath lave. 

Or shower from the sulphur spray? 
Each one here his choice may have. 
Visit Esculapia. 

Would you indulge in the romantic, 

Roaming hills by night or day, 
Or at eve be charmed with music? 
Visit Esculapia. 

Would you join the graceful dance, 
Or make one in the merry play 
(Win a sweetheart there perchance)? 
Visit PZsculapia. 



CREST ON THE II VI ]'E. 93 

Pleasant walks and cheer tnl rides, 

Shady swings and nine-pin play, 
Nor shall want for aught besides. 
Visit Esculapia. 

If your purpose not amusement, 

Thus to pass your time away, 
Do you seek alone retirement ? 
Visit Esculapia. 

Here are grottoes, here are glens, 

Where the clearest brooklets stray, 
Quite retired from haunts of men. 
Visit Esculapia. 

Would you angle with a hook 

Where the silvery fishes play, 
In some shady little nook ? 
Visit Esculapia. 

Would you join the chase for game. 

Rising at the dawn of day, 
With a stroke the wild deer tame? 
Visit Esculapia. 

Here 's a feast for ofeolotrics, 

Richest ore to softest clay, 
Every species for botanies ; 
Visit Esculapia. 



94 CREST OS THE WA VE. 

Would you drink the brightest waters 
That e'er sought the Hght of day? 
Come, ye languid sons and daughters, 
Visit Esculapia. 

Sparkling flow they in their pride, 

(But enough alone to say,) 
Health is borne Upon their tide. 
Visit Esculapia. 

Then the ftHends we hope to greet, 

Whom we could stay with for aye, 
O, 'tis pleasant thus to meet! 
Visit Esculapia. 

When we 've spent the week in pleasure, 

And grown listless on Lord's-day, 
Then we have a pleasant preacher. 
Haste to Esculapia. 

Here the Muse her graces lends, 

When we seek her gentle sway ; 
Lo! to her our spirit bends. 

We visit Esculapia. 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 



95 



WHOM THE LORD LOVETH HE CHASTENETH. 

Dedicated to Miss Marie Louise Smith, Lexington, Ky. 



Leave me not without chastisement, 
Lest I stray from thee, ni) Lord ; 

Let me feel thy hand upon me, 
Listening to thy every word. 

Through the fearful hours of anguish, 
May thine angel strengthen me ; 

May thy grace be all sufficient, 
Who didst feel Gethsemane. 

When alone, and in the darkness. 
Let me feel thy leading hand ; 

Though must buffet me with sharpness, 
Make me walk in thy command. 

Though it be that thou wilt slay me, 
Trusting still I cling to Thee, 

Till from out the fiery furnace 

Thou wilt bring me pure and free. 



96 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



UPON PRESENTING A BEAUTIFUL ROSE. 



I send you a rose, not your "champagny" though, 
Yet on its bright cheek is a radiant glow ; 
Still not like the champagny, whose fragrance outsteals, 
As true love from hearts that illy conceals ; 
But there 's a beauty and joy, its bright leaves impart, 
Like the free gushing warmth that springs Irom the 
heart. 

Yea, let me bring thee flowers, 

Sweet flowers, to smile on the gloom; 
Spurn them not from thy saddened hours ; 

E'en flowers will spring from the heart of the tomb. 



SIC TRANSIT MUNDANE." 



First dawns the morn in rosy light. 
Then haste the Summer hours oi noon, 
Then shed the evening flowers their bloom, 
And, lo! 'tis night! 



CREST ON THE WAVE. 97 



TO MISS MARION POWER, OF MAYSVILLE, KY. 



Dear Marion, — Perhaps it is as well that I could not write in your album 

at that time. 

So your calm, sweet face, 

So full of dignity and grace. 

Within my mind has held its place, 

Nor would 1, could there aught efface. 

Now for the Album. 

'Tis Autumn, and the falling leaf 

Bears glory with it to the tomb. 

How well it bore its part through Spring and Summer's 

heat, 
How well the cloud and storm did brave, 
Its gorgeous glowing tints are trophies meet ; 

Thus laden with its ripened, garnered wealth, 
Whispered, '-'Tis finished," with its latest breath, 
And calmly nestled to the sleep of death. 

How brief the space from Spring to Autumn's hour! 

Yet doing with our might, /low vast f he power / 

With thee 'tis Spring-time now; 

The sunshine warms to waken life's brief joy, 

As well the cloud and storm their purpose each employ. 

" But stay thy moral, let it here find end; 
And list the purpose of this heart, my friend ; 
So saying, as my Spring recedes, 
I '11 fill my little space with kindly deeds ; 
Doing and bearing, my life shall be the sum, 
And bringing all to Jesus' feet, 
I '11 show him what I 've done." 



98 CREST ON THE WAVE. 



THE CHINESE SACRED LILY. 

Inscribed to my dear "Sister Hess" (Mrs. J. D. Trapp). 



A friend came with a bulb to give, 

And teach me how to make it live. 

" Water and pebbles within the vase 

Would hold the lily in its place." 

Deeming the pebbles sparse and bare, 

I placed a tuft of cotton there. 

O, how it orrew and ijrew and orrew ! 

The rootlets pierced the cotton lli rough, 

Until the pearly rounded mass 

The lily's self could scarce surpass. 

Ah ! how fond fancy onward flew, 

As day by day the lily grew, 

That we in happy Christmas hour 

Should see in bloom the sacred flower, 

And breathe the fragrance on the air 

That floated Irom its petals lair ! 

But oh ! alas ! how sad to note, 

My lily's roots were all afloat. 

For oh ! the luring cotton pulp 

Had not thf strength to bear it up. 

Witii ail its early promise lair 

Of fragrance rich and blossom rare, 

'T was prone beneath the slightest shock, 

Because it grappled not the rock. 

(May we not here a lesson find? 
We need an anchor ilms to bind.) 
December 4, 1889. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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